


Rural Retreat

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Polly's romantic holiday with Ben doesn't turn out to be what she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rural Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt generated by the [Ersatz Genremixer](http://www.seasip.info/Misc/genremixer.html?people=Susan:Ian:Barbara:Vicki:Steven:Katarina:Dodo:Polly:Ben:Jamie:Victoria:Zoe:Liz:Jo:Sarah%20Jane:Leela:Romana:Adric:Nyssa:Tegan:Peri:Mel:Ace:Lucie:Rose:Mickey:Jack:Martha:Donna:Amy:Rory:Clara&cpp=0&tpp=0&prompts=10&tl=6&nsfw=false): Barbara / Ben / Polly - snowed in & getaway vacation

"What did you want to rent a holiday cottage for anyway?" Ben demanded. 

Polly sighed. "Believe me, I've asked myself that question so many times since we got here." 

It had, she privately reflected, seemed like such a good idea at the time. Ben had had a bit of leave coming up, and what could be more romantic than a July week in a quiet rural cottage in the West Country? 

The reality hadn't quite turned out like that. For the first two days, pumping up water, chopping logs and walking a mile down a muddy track to the bus stop had been entertainingly rustic. They'd tramped the hills, eaten at quaint local hostelries, and tried to take an interest in ruined castles and standing stones. By the middle of the week, she'd had to admit that she was finding the whole thing a bit on the boring side, the weather had turned rainy, she'd ruined an entire Mary Quant outfit by tripping over and falling in the mud, and she was really beginning to miss hot showers. 

And then the English weather had decided that drenching them in a downpour hadn't been sufficient, and had dumped what felt like a winter's worth of snow on them overnight. 

"What's it want to snow for in July anyway?" Ben demanded, leaning on her shoulder as he hobbled back toward the cottage. "Even for England it's a bit much." 

"Maybe it's aliens," Polly said, and shivered. She was wearing the warmest clothes she'd brought, but they'd hardly been chosen with this sort of weather in mind. 

Ben staggered, and almost fell. "Dunno what we can do about them if it is. Look at me — I'm completely crocked up." 

"Is your ankle broken?" Polly asked. It came out sounding far more waspish than she'd intended — as if any lesser injury wasn't even worth her attention. 

"Dunno. Let's get indoors and then you can take a look." 

"I don't know why you were out in the snow anyway." 

"Someone's got to get the logs for the stove, haven't they?" Ben sounded as if his own temper was fraying. "Or we'll have to make do with cold baked beans out of a tin. And probably freeze." 

The mental image wasn't a pleasant one. And Polly had to admit that when it came to cooking, her abilities didn't stretch much further than tinned baked beans, and actually heating them was definitely pushing the envelope. 

⁂

With Ben safely inside the cottage and propped up on a chair nursing his possibly-broken ankle, Polly realised, with a sinking feeling, that everything was up to her now. In theory, she could ring up the local doctor and ask him to step round; in practice, the nearest telephone was a mile away through steadily-deepening snow, and even if she could get to it without suffering some accident herself, it didn't seem likely that any doctor would be able to reach her. 

Walking from room to room, she tried to work out a list of jobs. Bring some more logs in — without slipping on the ice and hurting her ankle, like Ben. Get the stove cleaned out and lit. Cook something. If not... well, they probably weren't in danger of actual starvation or freezing, but the next few days would be extremely uncomfortable for them both. 

There was a rattle from the direction of the front door. Polly jumped, but quickly dismissed it as the wind. No-one would be out there in weather like this. 

"Pol!" Ben's voice called. "Someone at the door." 

"You're sure?" Polly asked, hurrying through to the living room. 

Ben nodded. "Saw someone go past the window just now." 

"Who?" 

"Someone in a big coat. That's all I saw." 

"But who'd be out there in all this—" Polly broke off, as a sudden idea struck her. "Ben, you don't think it's him, do you? The Doctor?" 

"You didn't call a doctor, did you? How?" 

Polly shook her head. "Not a doctor, _the_ Doctor. You know we were talking about aliens causing the snow. Suppose they _are_?" 

"And he's come to give them what for?" Ben tried to stand, and fell back with a gasp. "Look, get the door open, or whoever it is'll freeze solid out there." 

With a hasty nod, Polly hurried forward and flung the door open. A figure wrapped in a huge, heavy duffel coat and wearing a rucksack ducked into the room and pushed the door closed again, shutting out the howl of the wind and the drifting snow. 

"Hello," the new arrival said. She pulled her bobble hat off, revealing dark hair, and shook off some of the snow from her coat. 

"Um... hello. I'm Polly Jackson and this is Ben." 

"Barbara Chesterton. Pleased to meet you." Barbara looked around the cottage. "I was lucky to find anywhere to take shelter in this weather. What a quaint, old-fashioned place." 

"If you like that sort of thing," Ben grumbled. 

"Don't mind him, he's just grumpy because he's hurt his ankle," Polly said. "What brings you here? Are you on a walking tour?" 

"Not quite. This was supposed to be a one-off trip with a friend." She divested herself of her rucksack. "Let's have a look at your ankle, then." 

Polly gave her a look of renewed interest. "Are you a doctor?" 

"No, but I've trained enough Girl Guides in first aid over the years." Barbara knelt down by Ben, cautiously running her fingers over his injured ankle. "I think it's just a sprain. I'll bandage it up, and there's plenty of snow we can use to cool it down." She looked across at Polly. "Can you get that stove going?" 

"I'll have to rake it out first. And we need more wood." 

"Round the side of the house," Ben added. "Better take care, it's like a skating rink round there. That's where I went over." 

Barbara nodded. "I'll go with Polly and make sure we both come back in one piece." 

"It's very kind of you to help us like this," Polly said. 

"It's for selfish reasons." Barbara smiled, self-deprecatingly. "I need shelter and warmth just as much as you do. If I can do anything to help you, we all end up warm and dry sooner rather than later." 

"I suppose you're stuck here now until the snow lets up," Ben said. 

Barbara nodded. "I suppose so. It's pretty unusual weather, even for England." 

"That's what I said," Polly put in. "Maybe it's something to do with aliens." 

She'd said it in a humorous tone of voice, as something that might easily be dismissed as a joke. But Barbara didn't laugh. 

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised," she said. "Let's hope they give us time to get ourselves sorted out before they invade the planet." 

"Doesn't sound like any aliens I've—" Ben caught himself. "Seen. In films and so on, I mean." 

Barbara shook her head. "Nor me. But let's concentrate on getting the wood in for now. The weather's getting worse." 

⁂

Before Barbara had shown up, Polly had been seriously considering retiring to the sofa and leaving Ben in sole possession of the cottage's only bed. It wasn't that she didn't love him, but with the holiday turning sour around them she'd thought they could have done with some space. 

Now, with Barbara on the sofa and given a share of the cottage's scanty supply of bedding, Polly and Ben didn't have any choice in the matter. Lying beside Ben in the darkness, Polly felt grateful for the warmth of his body. The snow hadn't stopped falling, and the wind seemed to have found every crack in the structure of the cottage. 

"Fine holiday this is, and no mistake," Ben whispered, drawing her closer to him. 

Polly sighed. "Well, you can't blame me for the snow." 

"No. Weird, that. There wasn't anything about it on the radio." 

"You're right." It hadn't been easy, trying to coax anything other than static out of her transistor radio, but the evening news had been clear enough. "Must be really local." 

"Or maybe someone's covering it up. Someone like that Sir Charles." 

Polly shivered. "That would mean we're caught in something really serious, wouldn't it?" 

"Sounds about right." 

"Then I'm even sorrier I got us into all this." 

"Maybe there's something you can do to make it up, then," Ben said, his caress sending flutters of pleasure through her. 

Polly seemed, for a moment, to draw back. "What about Barbara next door? She'll hear everything!" 

"She's a married woman, isn't she?" 

"I suppose so." Polly could feel herself blushing in the dark. "I just don't know how I'll be able to look her in the eye in the morning." 

Ben chuckled. "Right now, that's the least of your worries, Duchess." 

⁂

Polly had been, if not asleep, at least in a post-coital daze. Either way, the sudden blaze of light was too bright to ignore. Burying her face in the pillow didn't seem to have the slightest effect; with a groan, she raised her head. 

"What's going on?" Ben muttered. 

"I don't know. It looks like the whole sky's on fire." Polly realised that with his ankle out of action, Ben was in no position to take a closer look. She climbed out of the bed, shivering at the chilly floor and freezing air, and hurried to the fireplace where she'd hung her clothes up to dry the previous night. The jumper and trousers were OK, the shoes still damp, but better than nothing; she hastily pulled them on. Then she crossed to the window and looked out. Between the snow, the frost and the tiny panes, it was difficult to make anything out. 

"I think there's a big fire. Somewhere near... what's it called? Cleaver Tor," she said. 

There was a knock at the door. "Are you decent?" Barbara's voice asked. 

"Yes," Polly called back. "Are you?" 

In answer, the door opened, to reveal a blanket-wrapped Barbara. "The light woke you up too, I expect," she said. "I think you'll get a better view from the living-room window." 

Polly nodded. "I'll come." 

She joined Barbara at the window. Side by side, they looked out over endless snow, deep enough that it covered the bottom six inches or so of the window. In the distance, the tor seemed to be covered with flickering golden-red lines of fire, with more dancing in the sky above it. 

"What is it?" Polly wondered out loud. "Meteors?" 

"I think that's what someone might say, if they hadn't seen it for themself." Barbara turned to face Polly, half of her face illuminated by the glare, the other half in deep shadow. "There are things a lot more dangerous than meteors out there in the Universe." 

"I know," Polly said. 

"Do you?" Barbara's eyes held Polly's. "You've seen something like this before, haven't you?" 

"Yes! And we need to be out there doing something about it, not stuck in here watching." 

"I'm not sure we can even get out of here, with the snow this deep. And if we could, we'd freeze before we got anywhere near the tor." 

"That doesn't make it any better!" Polly clenched her fists. "We can't just do nothing." 

Barbara put her hands on Polly's shoulders. "Please, try to think about this. Your husband's laid up in bed for at least the next day. You'd have to go out on your own, and what if something happened to you?" 

"I know. I thought all that." Polly pushed her hair back, realising what a tangled mess it must be. "But then I thought maybe I was just making up excuses not to go out there. That I was scared." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you were scared. There are times when it makes perfect sense to be afraid." Barbara took another glance out of the window. "Just a moment. Is that..." 

Polly joined her. "Is what?" 

"Just to the left of that tree." 

Following Barbara's pointing finger, Polly could make out what might have been a tiny rectangular silhouette against the flickering glow. Or maybe it was just an illusion, or a flaw in the glass of the window. 

"I'm not sure there's anything there," she said. 

"Perhaps there isn't. But... well, I hope there is." Barbara squeezed Polly's arm. "Hope is about all we've got, at the moment." 

"I'd better get back to Ben," Polly said. "He'll want to know what's going on out there." 

"Yes, I'll turn in, too." Barbara pulled her blanket closer around herself. "I'm not sure I'll sleep with that light show going on, but I'll certainly try." 

Polly tiptoed back into the bedroom, removed her clothes, and climbed gratefully back into the warmth of the bed. 

"What's going on out there?" Ben asked. 

"I don't know. It looks like ribbons of fire — in the sky and on the tor." Polly lowered her voice. "Barbara seemed to know more about it than she was letting on. She dropped all sorts of hints, Ben. About... well, aliens." 

"Well, it could be aliens, couldn't it?" 

"Yes, it could. But how does she know?" 

"You could always ask her. Just a thought." 

Polly weighed up her desire for knowledge against the warmth of the bed and the cold of the night. "I'll ask her tomorrow," she said. "If there is a tomorrow, of course." 

⁂

Exactly what time the lights on the tor had gone out, Polly didn't know, but they had certainly gone by the morning. With Barbara to help, the domestic tasks had been easily accomplished, and though she felt nothing like her normal glamorous self, Polly's spirits were definitely lifting. 

Barbara set the basket of logs down, pulled her coat off, and shook it to remove the worst of the snow. 

"It's definitely melting now," she said. "It's gone down by about five inches." 

"Can't come soon enough." Polly shook the snow off her own inadequate raincoat, and decided that now was the time to strike. "Barbara, you knew it was going to snow like this, didn't you?" 

Barbara shook her head. "What gives you that idea?" 

"You were dressed for it. The coat and hat and so on." Polly thought back to when Barbara had arrived. "And you said you were travelling with a friend." 

"Yes." Barbara took a deep breath. "Or rather, I assumed that I was. I got a letter from the— from someone I used to know, once. He said to be here and wear warm clothes. I thought I'd be meeting him, but when I followed the directions... I ended up here." 

"We've been around here for a few days," Polly said. "Maybe we've seen him. What does he look like?" 

"An old man, with white hair. And he calls himself—" 

"Doctor," Polly said. 

Barbara had been laying a fire in the stove, but the log she was holding fell out of her hand. "You've seen him?" 

Polly shook her head. "Not for years. But it wouldn't surprise me one bit if he was at the bottom of all this." 

"Not one little bit." Barbara smiled. "I see we'll have a lot to talk about this afternoon while we're waiting for the snow to melt." 

⁂

It was closer to the evening before enough of the snow had melted for Polly and Barbara to consider setting out for Cleaver Tor. Though Ben's ankle had been improving, it had clearly not been good enough for a substantial walk, so the two women had set out on their own. As they had approached the foot of the tor, the snow had turned to slush, and disappeared altogether. The ground, which had been waterlogged, became dry, and as they ascended the tor the vegetation began to acquire a scorched look. 

A little way short of the summit, a large circle of burned grass and heather surrounded a crater, perhaps thirty feet across. The earth around it was still warm to the touch. 

"Look." Barbara pointed to her right. A little way round the crater, a green square of unburnt turf stood out against the surrounding devastation — a square of turf just large enough for a police box to stand on. 

"So he was here," Polly said. 

"Are you sorry we didn't get here earlier?" 

Polly shook her head. "The Doctor's dangerous. You know that as well as I do. I don't regret travelling with him, but... I don't think I'd do it again." She gave the crater another look. "We'd better get back before it gets dark." 

They set off down the hill. 

"I wonder why he sent for you?" Polly mused, once they'd nearly reached level ground. "Whatever happened here, it's finished, and you never found him." 

"I don't know." Barbara spread her hands. "Maybe he wanted me around in case he needed another pair of hands, but the snow was worse than he expected." 

"Well, I think having you around saved our marriage, these last couple of days," Polly said. "Just the two of us, snowed up in that cottage... we'd have been at each other's throats." 

Barbara smiled. "Your marriage sounded all right last night." 

"I'm sorry." Polly, blushing, turned to face Barbara. "I told Ben you'd hear us but— ooh!" 

In her distraction, she'd slipped on the waterlogged ground, and for the second time that week lost her footing. Flailing for balance, she caught hold of Barbara, but only succeeded in pulling her over, too. 

"Oh, no!" Polly tried to get up, slipped again, and ended up on her hands and knees. "I'm really sorry... I didn't mean..." 

Barbara looked, if anything, amused rather than upset. "It's OK. Could have happened to anyone." She managed to climb to her feet, and pulled Polly up. "Just try and keep your mind on where you're going." 

Polly looked ruefully at their muddy clothes. "I don't think this sort of holiday is really my thing." 

"I had noticed," Barbara said. 

"But I'm still glad we met you." Polly set off for the cottage. "You'll come back with me now to dry off, won't you?" 

"Provided you and Ben promise to come to visit us when Ian's back from America. We've all travelled with the Doctor: we should stick together." 

"Like a shot," Polly said. 

_Also_ , Barbara reflected as they trudged towards the cottage, _You two need someone sensible to keep an eye on you. Perhaps that's why the Doctor got me to come out here. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course._


End file.
